


If I Leave

by saccharinepeccadillo



Series: If I Leave (series) [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Angry Morty, Angst, Attempted Murder, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Underage Drinking, anger issues, emotional rick, rick tries to fix everything with ice cream, the evil morty/morty is only if you squint and its hella abusive, theyre all so ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saccharinepeccadillo/pseuds/saccharinepeccadillo
Summary: Mortimer has plans, Morty has problems, and Rick has worries.





	1. Set Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo this is my first attempt at a multi chapter fic with some semblance of plot, hope you guys enjoy

Mortimer had finally made it to the point he'd been waiting for. After years of watching C-137 Rick and his Morty, Morty was finally starting to slip. It was when they had gone to some random planet that had been having its purge when Morty seemed to finally realize his true potential, and had let the rage overtake him. Mortimer had watched gleefully as Morty had mauled and maimed one person after another, only stopping when Rick had incapacitated him. Mortimer waited impatiently as they had gotten home and gone to bed, only acting once they had all fallen asleep. Opening a portal and stepping through, he emerged to Morty sleeping, fitfully tossing and turning. It was not unusual for Morty’s to have nightmares, but it was uncommon for them to have as many as this Morty had on a regular basis, another sign that he was ready for what Mortimer had planned. 

Mortimer knew that he had to approach this situation gently. if he made even one wrong move he'd have to start all over, maybe even having to dispose of this Morty and wait for C-137 to find and bond with another one. Not impossible, but definitely unpleasant. The situation was not helped by the fact that social skills were not his forte, but he was comforted by the fact that he had taken his time to research emotional connection (and manipulation) beforehand. The image of a smiling woman on TV rambling off, "If you can't make it at home, store bought is fine" popped into his mind, and he stifled a smirk. He examined the table by Morty’s bed, before giving it three rapid knocks with his knuckles. Morty woke with a start, looking around frantically before locking eyes with Mortimer. Morty stared dumbly at him, long enough for Mortimer to decide that he should speak first. "Morty Smith, there's something that I've been needing to discuss with you." Mortimer could tell he was coming off as distant, and internally berated himself. He would have to work on the friendliness aspect. Morty slid his legs over the bed until he was sitting on the edge of it, facing Mortimer. "O-okay, then? Is there a problem with the Ricks or something?" Mortimer almost rolled his eyes. Even if this Morty was ready, he was still too invested in Ricks wellbeing. Morty was shuffling his feet nervously, glancing down at them, then back up at Mortimer. "Many of the Morty’s have begun to talk of and plan a rebellion of sorts. We've all noticed that without fail, each of our Ricks seem to..." Mortimer paused, searching for his words, "Not care about their Morty’s. We have concluded that they only view us as shields," Morty visible winced, and Mortimer knew he had hit a sore spot, "And we have decided to do something about it." Mortimer was proud of how well he had delivered the lie, although he doubted Morty would have noticed he was lying either way. Morty studied Mortimer for several seconds. "You're that Morty who was with the Evil Rick, aren't you? The one who locked me in that room with all of the other Morty’s." Mortimer found it ironic that out of all of them Ricks, this Morty had decided that his own manufactured Rick was the most evil one. Although he did suppose that since that's how he himself perceived all Ricks, his attempt at one would come off as evil, even to a Morty. "I take work where I can get it. My intentions were not malevolent, and now that that Rick is dead, I have no ties with his ethics. How did you know it was me?" Morty scrutinized him for a few more seconds before seeming to find him satisfactory. "You don't really stutter at all, and your speech is... different. You know like, big words and better sentences and stuff." Morty titled his head thoughtfully. "Where's your eyepatch though?" Mortimer glanced off to the side, coming up with a quick lie while fiddling with a piece of paper on Morty’s desk. "It was a temporary injury, it had since healed itself." Mortimer was impressed with Morty’s observation skills, they were good enough to rival his own. Once they were together, they would be unstoppable. He found that although he and Morty had only been talking for maybe three minutes at most, he was already growing fond of this Morty. He had already grown a soft spot for him while monitoring him, but coming face to face was completely different. Mortimer stopped fiddling with the paper and faced Morty fully. "I'll let you decide your answer in your own time. If you want to talk, here is my number, Its accessible in any dimension." Mortimer smoothly pulled a small card he had tucked away earlier from his pocket and handed it to Morty. Morty stared at it blankly before looking back up. His hands were shaking, something that Mortimer had noticed was oddly persistent in this Morty’s tics, and for a brief second, he took pity on him. "You know, Rick is on to something with his alcohol and drug use. It really takes the edge off when you need it." Morty looked down at his hands, which he wrung together almost violently. "I'll-I'll consider it. For both things. Thanks, uh...." Morty searched Mortimer’s eyes. "Mortimer is fine." 

"Thanks Mortimer. I'm, I guess I'm Morty." Mortimer pulled out his portal gun, shooting a portal and stepping through it stiffly, fighting the urge to stay and talk more. One step at a time. "I know." 

\---

Rick was busy tinkering on his latest project, trying to forget the events of the day. Although it had technically been a successful mission (as in, no one died and they got wiper fluid), things had still gotten more out of hand than Rick had ever wanted them to. From his car getting stolen, being stranded on a purge planet, to watching his grandson murder innocent people without an ounce of regret, the entire ordeal had made him consider using his harder drugs right when he had gotten home. He had told Morty that it had been the chocolate bars they had eaten earlier, that they had a chemical that made people angry cold blooded killers. He had known that the bars they had eaten had been made without it, of course, but he still held onto the hope that if Morty believed that it was an outside force, then he would stop going down the path he seemed to be on. He was starting to remind Rick of his very first Morty, his original Morty. The anger, the talking back, it all was too much for Rick, bringing back bitter memories of C-137 Morty. He started to frantically rummage through his drawers, searching for something to take his mind off the memories that were piling up.

 

Morty had been about 10, which was still too young for adventures, but little Morty had insisted that he had been ready. He had been adventuring with Rick ever since the age of 7, quickly picking up on how to use guns, and the benefits of dealing illegal drugs, both things that Rick had tried to shield from him to no avail. This particular adventure wasn't supposed to be very exciting, just a quick harvest from a mostly uninhabited planet for some minerals and then straight back home. They had been blissfully mining when Rick realized they weren't the only aliens on planet anymore. Rick had tried to get Morty back to the ship, hoping for a peaceful transfer of territory, but Morty had other plans, attempting to convince Rick that they needed to rob the other ship and kill the crew members. Morty was like that, hot headed and never looking before he leaped. He had a certain bloodlust, a penchant for violence that coursed hotly through his veins, giving him an edge that no 10-year-old should have. On top of that he was wicked smart, using his cunning and manipulative tendencies to get Rick and himself out of multiple hair situations. In the end, Rick was persuaded into sneaking on board and looting them, but had prohibited Morty from killing them unless the crew members attacked first. Looking back on it, Rick had no idea why he had even gone along with it. It had probably been the sure and determined look in Morty’s eyes, the way he carried himself as if he knew what he was doing, knew what was best. 

He was only a kid, though, no matter how much he tried to not be. In the end, they had been spotted, fleeing from the enraged crew members. Rick had made a portal and jumped through it, assuming that Morty was right behind him like usual. This time though, he hadn't been, and Rick had emerged on the other side safe and with a rising sense of panic. He had gone back almost immediately, only having grabbed one or two extra guns before going, ready to rescue Morty, but had found the ship gone. He had driven around for hours, screaming Morty’s name in his ship (as if he would hear him). Rick had finally found the ship, only to find each passenger brutally murdered, and no sign of Morty anywhere. 

 

Ricks hands were shaking as he manically threw things off his desk, trying in vain to find an escape from the vivid memory. He heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up to see Morty standing in the corner of his workshop holding a familiar bag full of powdered crystals. "Looking for this?" Morty tossed the bag to Rick, and he tripped trying to catch it, falling hard onto his knees. "Jesus Morty, what are you doing with-" 

"I'm not Morty." The Morty was cleaning his nails lazily, leaning back against the wall. Rick stared, slowly reaching for his gun before the Morty snorted. "I'm not real, idiot. It's all in your head." Rick was still for a moment, pondering the situation, before sitting cross legged on the floor. He started to play with the bag, moving the crystals under the plastic. "So, I'm finally losin’ it, huh?" The Morty picked up something from his crafting table and examined it. "It would appear so. Or maybe you've always been like this." Morty set the device back down and stepped over towards Rick. Rick noticed that there were wires hanging out of one of the Morty’s eyes. "Morty’s deserve better than to have you, anyway. An imaginary Morty should really be the only Morty keeping you company." The Morty walked past him, but Rick just kept looking at his bag, refusing to look at the imposter anymore. He half expected the Morty to hit him, but instead all he heard was a portal opening and then closing again, then he was alone. He looked down at the crystals in his hand somberly.


	2. Hooky with Grandpa

Morty thought that getting up early to go to school after his first night of heavy drinking was the worst thing to happen to him that day, but he realized the actual worst thing was probably his stupid grandfather barging in in the middle of his math class and dragging him to his car. "Rick, where the hell are we going." Morty held his head in both his hands, trying to not focus on the loud engine or the way the car tipped and turned erratically. "I don't know, I thought we'd go for ice cream or blips and chitz or something." Rick seemed distant, a small strained smile on his face. Morty groaned. "I was in school Rick. You know, school? Where you learn shit?" 

"I've said it before Morty, school isn't a place for smart people." Rick looked over at Morty, any sense of trying to hold his smile together gone and replaced with seriousness. "And it's especially not a place for people with hangovers." Morty looked out the window, trying to avoid eye contact. "I'm not... I'm not hungover." He mumbled. 

"Yeah sure, and I'm not an alcoholic. You're hungover, dumbass. What the hell were you thinking?" Morty thought back to Mortimer’s words from a couple nights ago. He was right about the alcohol helping calm him down and helping him forget, but the morning afterwards was a different story entirely. Morty let out a small frustrated growl. "I don't know Rick, it seems to work for you." Morty snapped heatedly, feeling anger bubble up inside of him. Why was Rick so worried anyway? Or was he just trying to make Morty’s life more miserable? "Is this why you really got me from school? To-to talk to me about hangovers?!" Rick rubbed and tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs nervously. "Actually, I more wanted to talk to you about how you've been feeling in general lately." Morty felt startled, taken aback by Ricks sudden and out of character attempt at empathy. "W-what?" 

"It just seems like you're not feelin’ so hot, I don't know. you're acting different and I wanted to... check in." 

"L-like what exactly?" Morty started panicking. Did Rick know about his and Mortimer’s meeting? "Well for one, you've started drinking, which believe me isn't a road you wanna go down, and two you've seemed pretty pent up. You gotta let out that teenage angst in a healthy way Morty, I can't have you feelin’ shitty when I need you." Morty huffed angrily, crossing his arms and turning away from Rick. There Rick went again, 'needing' Morty. Morty really was only a shield for Rick. He felt stupid for letting himself hope that maybe Rick cared about him, but of course, he just didn’t want to lose his safety net between himself and the federation. Morty felt his ears getting hot from hidden rage. "Why do you even care, Rick? I'm just-I'm just a shield to you, if you lose me you can always go get a new one." Rick rolled his eyes and sighed, only angering Morty further. "Jeez, sorry Morty, can’t a guy care about his grandson around here?" Morty barely heard him, only hearing the blood rushing in his ears. Rick was still talking, but Morty wasn't listening anymore. Rick constantly made it clear that Morty would be useless to him if he weren't a shield, and that he didn't like being in Morty’s presence anyway. So why was he pulling this shit now? Morty felt his hands shaking, and when he heard Rick utter one clear, single word through the haze, "stupid", he snapped. 

Morty quickly reached under his seat without thinking, grabbing a loose bottle from the floor and swinging it at Rick. It hit his head and broke with a deafening crash, stunning Rick momentarily before he realized what was happening. Morty was already swinging the broken bottle neck at him, mostly hitting clothes but getting a few cuts to his face and neck in. Morty had climbed over to Rick, trying to pin the older man down but failing due to his size. Rick kicked Morty away, abandoning the wheel to grab Morty’s hands and twist his wrist to make him drop the weapon. Morty snarled at Rick, kicking the old man and trying to bite his hands. "What the fuck, Morty?! What the hell has gotten into you?" Morty got a decent kick at Ricks chest, knocking the wind out of him and making him let go of Morty’s arms. Morty reached wildly for Ricks hair, grabbing a handful of it painfully. All Morty could think about were the times Rick had called him stupid, or the times he had preached Morty’s insignificance, totally dissociating from the present fight and acting out on raw anger alone. Morty rammed Ricks head into the dashboard and heard him groan loudly in pain. Morty thought about the bullies he'd had to deal with his entire life. Rick was no different from them, always picking on him and trying to make him feel worthless and stupid. He slammed Ricks head into the dashboard again, this time with more force. He might have heard a crack. 

Morty thought about what Mortimer had said, and realized that all Ricks were the same, they all bullied their Morty’s and didn't care about them. An image of the dome of tortured Morty’s flashed in his head, and Morty slammed Ricks head into the dashboard a final time. When he let go, Ricks body fell limply to the floor, unmoving. Morty’s breath hitched, and clarity washed over him. Realizing what he'd done, he knelt frantically and tried to search for a pulse. When he couldn't find one he started to panic, biting his lip and holding back tears. He finally found the right spot and felt a strong, slow beat, and he breathed a sigh of relief, only to be quickly overtaken again by anger, both at his inability to find a pulse quickly and his inability to do more damage to the old man. Shoving Rick into the backseat, he climbed into the front seat and started driving. 

 

Rick awoke with a painfully pounding headache and mild vertigo. His forehead felt wet, touching the site revealed that he was bleeding. Looking around, he found himself in his car on a planet he didn't immediately recognize, and with no Morty in sight. Slowly he got up and started to look around the cabin, hoping that Morty was just asleep or laying down somewhere. "Where the fuck did you go, you little shit?" Rick reached into his pocket for his keys, only to find them gone. His suspicions growing, He searched all his pockets and around the car, eventually concluding that not only his keys were missing, but so were his portal gun and his wallet. "Shit." Rick got out of the car, looking around and spotting a town not too far from where they'd parked. Pulling out his flask and taking a long swig from it, he started to make his way towards it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand theres chapter 2! things are starting to get somewhere thank god  
> im trying to space these out a little but im also impatient as hell, please feel free to leave kudos or comments!!


	3. Time to Contemplate? Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka the chapter where Morty keeps trying to run and hide for the sole purpose of being a shit

Morty had no clue what he was trying to do. Once he had landed the car and gotten some ways away from it, he had wandered aimlessly through the nearby town, avoiding all eye contact and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Spotting what he assumed was a cafe or restaurant of some kind, he pushed the door open and hurried in. It was fairly crowded, which allowed him some cover if he were to need it. He was still vibrating with anger, and being able to sit down and think, instead of walking like he had been, allowed him room to grow even more angry. 

He was having trouble deciding on whether to join the other Morty’s in their rebellion against Rick. On the one hand, Rick was a horrible person who did only see them as shields. He remembered Rick saying something about Morty having "dumb" brainwaves that cancelled out his own "smart" brain waves. Rick always belittled Morty like that, downplaying Morty’s intelligence just like everyone else did. Years and years of putting up with countless jabs at him were finally coming to a head, and to Morty the biggest offender was Rick. Mortimer did have a point. 

On the other hand, though, Morty still loved Rick. There were moments where it was easy to forget what Morty really was to him, where he felt like an ally instead of a tool. Rick was probably his best, if only, friend, and Morty didn't want to lose that. He was scared of losing that. Before Rick he had no one, always being harassed by peers and pitied by adults who thought they knew more about him than they actually did. When Rick came into Morty’s life, everything seemed to click into place. 

He nervously looked around the cafe, considering each person in the area. Rick may bully him, but he never let anyone else bully him, which Morty was extremely grateful for. But that was before, when Morty was too afraid to defend himself. Lately, he'd been less afraid to stand up for himself, feeling more confident than he'd ever been. But with it came an inexplicable anger, an urge to lash out at anything and everything. It was putting a strain on his and Ricks relationship, Morty feeling inclined to be more and more aggressive and violent, even at inappropriate times. Would his anger problems deter Mortimer? Would Mortimer understand? Or would it be just like how he and Rick were now? 

Morty pulled out the card Mortimer had given him. Scrawled on it in neat handwriting was a phone number, with the name "Mortimer" underneath in a slightly smaller font size. Morty played with the edge of the paper, curling and uncurling it. Mortimer had been nice enough, and he was the same person as Morty, after all. Well, it was the same DNA, at least. If Morty were to rebel against Rick, he could always try to salvage a friendship with Mortimer. Two Morty’s were better than one, right? And with any luck, Mortimer would be able to help Morty with his blooming violent tendencies. 

He stared at the paper and was reaching for his phone when he heard the door to the shop open, along with it drunken stumbling and a familiar voice. "Hey, uh, has anyone seen my grandson, he's got a yellow shirt and..." Morty hastily shoved the paper into his pants pocket and quickly got up, scanning the room for the best escape route. He wasn't given the opportunity to find one however, Rick spotting him quickly. "Morty! What the hell, what are you doing in here?" Morty felt behind himself frantically, watching his grandfather make his way over to him, and grabbed a butter knife that had been left on the table. Before Rick got all the way to him, he kicked a chair in between them and dashed around the side of the room, running as fast as the crowd would allow towards the door. He crashed into it and pushed his way through, sprinting down the street at full speed. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Rick chasing after him, shoving his way through the forming crowd and shouting his name. Morty passed by a park and dived in between the bushes, hoping that Rick didn't notice the stunt and that he would run right by. He crawled through the bushes and emerged on the other side next to a park bench. Leaning against the leg of the bench and curling himself into a tight ball, he held the knife close to his chest and waited for Rick to either find him or give up. Morty didn't know why he had fled, much like how he didn't know why he had run off the first time, all he knew was that he had felt the urge to, so he did. Seeing Rick at all lately brought a wave of panic for him, as well as anger and hatred. What he really needed was time to think his decisions over, time to contact Mortimer. 

Apparently, those things were not in his cards however, as he soon saw Rick round a corner and spot him. He could tell Rick was trying to be casual about how he walked over, going slowly and not looking directly at him, probably to not spook him. Morty felt yet another rush of anger at the thought of Rick seeing him as some wild and feral animal, but tampered it down when Rick stopped in front of him. Rick paused, and then sat on the ground in front of Morty, trying to get his attention. Morty averted his gaze, staring down at the knife in his hands and twirling it between his fingers. He heard Rick sigh. "I-I know you don't want to talk about whatever's been bothering you Morty, and that-" Rick took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose, "That's okay, we don't have to talk about it. But I do want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. It's a tough multiverse out there Morty, and grandpa is here to help you with anything it throws at you." Morty looked up to glare at Rick. It was a rare occurrence that Rick reached out emotionally like this, and Morty knew he should be enjoying the moment, but all he felt was anger. Rick was slightly shaking when he reached out to put his hand on Morty’s knee. "Were-were gonna go home now bud, but first you gotta drop the knife, okay? Can you give it to me?" Rick held out his other hand and gave Morty a soft smile. Morty knew he was putting on a mask, that underneath he was probably angry, or annoyed. Morty scowled at him and threw the knife to the side and into the bushes. "Whatever Rick, it's just a stupid butter knife anyway." Morty got up and brushed himself off. "Wouldn't even do shit." Morty stormed off to the car without another word, a worried Rick trailing behind him.


	4. Waited Too Long

Rick was yet again sitting in his workshop, trying and failing to not think about his grandson. Thoughts and memories swirled around in his head, worry and paranoia seeping into his bones. Feeling numb and detached from his body, he reached into a drawer and pulled out one of his laser pistols. "Morty’s deserve better than to have you, anyway." He repeated to himself.

He considered the gun.

 

Morty stumbled down the stairs, drunk but not quite drunk enough. He had been trying to psych himself up for the talk with Mortimer that would undoubtedly come soon, the talk that would change everything. Morty had run out of the booze he had stashed away in his room, and looking through the cupboards of the kitchen hailed only almost empty bottles that his parents would notice missing. Studying the door to the garage, Morty figured that Rick wouldn't care too much about Morty taking some of his booze. It was better than his parents finding out, at least. Before he could make it to the door, however, a portal opened in front of him, and Mortimer stepped out. He was holding a bottle of what looked like whiskey, and had a slightly panicked expression that looked out of place on him. "Oh, hey Mortimer. What're you doing here?" The portal closed behind him and he set the bottle down on the counter. "I just thought I'd stop by, see how you're doing. Want a drink?" Mortimer didn't wait for a reply, instead going straight to the cupboard and grabbing two glasses. Morty watched him, the way Mortimer was acting seemed slightly off. "...S-sure. Was there something you needed to talk about, or something?" Mortimer turned and started pouring whiskey into each glass, a small smile dancing across his face. "Not really, unless you've decided whether or not to join?" Mortimer looked up expectantly at Morty, and Morty’s heart fell. "Well..." he glanced over at the garage door, "I don't know, Mortimer. I need- I need to think more about it before deciding." Expecting to be met with frustration or anger, Morty was pleasantly surprised when Mortimer just smiled at him, handing him a glass. "That is quite alright, Morty. Take your time." Mortimer gently took Morty’s arm, leading him away from the garage door and towards the dining room. "I think it's better if you leave him alone right now, I suggest swiping the booze after he's gone to bed." They both sat down at the table. Mortimer studied him, holding his face up with his palm and letting his eyes droop with what seemed like affection. "You know, it is always hard to leave abusive and controlling relationships." Morty felt his blood run cold at that. He knew that his relationship with Rick wasn't the healthiest one, but he had never gone so far as to think of it as abusive. If Rick only saw him as a tool, though, Morty supposed it might be. 

Mortimer set down his glass gently and reached across the table to comfortingly grasp Morty’s hand. "I only want what's best for you, Morty. I'm here to help you get away from him." Morty looked off to the side, trying to sort thoughts out in his head. Part of him wanted to believe Mortimer about Rick being manipulative and abusive. It would make it so much more easy, to just make Rick the bad guy. But he also knew that Rick wasn't truly abusive, that his grandfather cared about him, at least enough to make sure he was mentally okay. 

But there were also times that he remembered of Rick being totally uncaring about Morty’s health and wellbeing, times where he had ignored Morty in favor of things he deemed more important. Rick was probably only pretending when he had been worrying over Morty, only worried that he'd somehow lose his shield. 

The garage door opening snapped Morty out of his thoughts, Mortimer’s hand tightening out of surprise around his own. Rick stood in the doorway, holding a gun and staring at both emotionlessly. "I thought I heard two voices." Mortimer stood, grabbing his portal gun that he had left on the table. His body language was suddenly changed, going from confident and poised to cowering and nervous within seconds. "M-Morty, g-get out of here! Now, while you still c-can!" Mortimer opened a portal, looking at Morty with pleading eyes. Rick raised his gun at Morty, doubt flickering across his face. "Who are you? Which one of you is my grandson?" Morty looked frantically between the two. He knew Mortimer was giving him his chance to leave, giving him an exit. All he had to do was take it, and then he would be rid of Rick forever. He started to hyperventilate, not being able to decide quickly enough and feeling the walls close in on him. Rick was looking between the two of them, squinting his eyes with scrutiny. A look of surprise flashed across Ricks face, followed quickly by anger, and he turned the gun onto Mortimer. "The wires. I knew something was fishy. Caught you, you little brat." Morty’s stomach dropped as he watched the gun fire, luckily only grazing Mortimer on the shoulder. He hissed through his teeth, grabbing his shoulder in pain and doubling over. Morty grabbed him and shoved him towards the portal. He leaned in towards Mortimer, whispering, "It’s not safe here for you. I'll call you." Before shoving him through the portal. He watched it close with dismay and regret, before being whirled around and feeling the gun being pressed under his chin. Rick loomed close, angrily jabbing the weapon into his skin. "Are you fake too?! Are you real?!" Morty angrily grabbed the gun and shoved it away, giving Rick a hard glare. "Yes, Rick I am real! J-jeez, calm the fuck down!" Rick backed away, coldly gazing at Morty. "What the fuck was that about, Morty? Who the hell was that?" Morty ignored Rick, instead grabbing the whiskey bottle Mortimer had left behind and heading towards the stairs. He gave Rick one last glare before going up them. "That's none of your business." 

 

Mortimer glowered at his screen, watching Morty barge up the stairs, leaving Rick to stand dumbly in the dining room. He had been so close. He should have just grabbed Morty himself, deciding for him, but he had wanted to stay behind to off the bastard himself, to have his time to gloat and hurt Rick before finally getting the sweet revenge he'd always wanted. After C-137 had left him for dead on that alien ship, Mortimer had been working on the best way to kill him. The brutal rawness of the first murders, the ones on that same ship he had been left for dead on, had been exhilarating, but there was also a satisfaction to calculated, tortuous killings. 

But then Morty had to be indecisive, ruining Mortimer’s chance. Now that Rick knew about his presence, his well laid plans were now useless. Rick was a wild card, and could easily throw a wrench in his work with Morty. Mortimer felt extremely frustrated, more so than he'd been in a long time, having been so close, only to fail. He had been working up to finally killing C-137 and getting his Morty, and having it snatched away from him at the last second was the last straw. He would have to improvise, but it was better than nothing. 

There was another problem as well. Morty had hesitated to even leave with Mortimer, and Mortimer didn't know how Morty would react to his Rick being killed by him. It might turn Morty against him, and Mortimer couldn't be having that. He would have to figure out how to work around that as well. Sighing, he got to work on mapping out a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for sticking with me this far!! the next and final chapter is gonna be a little extra long and have shit go down


	5. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AND HERES THE LAST CHAPTER THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING YOU GUYS ;-;

Rick was trying to hide it as best as he could, but the truth was that the day’s mission was solely for a last-minute weapons order. He knew that Morty didn't enjoy these kinds of runs, he probably hated them judging from how he'd reacted to meeting Krombopulous Michael. Their car ride was especially tense this time, Morty sitting as far away as he could from Rick while Rick tried to focus on driving, and not on the questions flying around in his mind. He was hoping that the deal would somehow take his mind off the events of the past couple of days, maybe make things better and ease the waters between the two of them. 

Rick wasn't mad at Morty, if anything he was just worried. He didn't know what his grandson was getting into, and while it could be completely harmless, he had a feeling there was something sinister going on. The fact that the other Morty had been trying so hard to get Morty to leave was rubbing Rick the wrong way.

Rick was relieved when they pulled up to the parking lot of the warehouse that he'd agreed to do the deal in, finally being able to focus on the task at hand. As he parked, he grabbed everything he needed as quickly as he could. "Morty, you stay in the car okay? I'll-I’ll be right back." Morty looked at him scrupulously. "But I never stay in the car. Why are we here, Rick?" Rick easily slid out of the car, locking it on the way. "Grandpas gotta do this on his own, Morty, it's safer for you in here. I promise I'll be right back, I'll only be like, two seconds." Rick slammed the door closed and hurried off to the warehouse, casting a worried look behind him towards the car. 

 

Morty had done as Rick said and begrudgingly waited in the car. But that was about 20 minutes ago, while Ricks deals only lasted 5 minutes’ tops. Something wasn't right, and Morty knew it. Curiosity and worry getting the better of him, Morty opened the car door and slipped out, being slow and careful in case Rick came out of the warehouse. He did not, and Morty hesitantly made his way to the warehouse door, peeking inside before stepping in. Big boxes were piled up to the ceiling, making walls and corridors throughout the layout of the building. Morty walked down the one in front of him, repressing the urge to call out for Rick. Morty imagined that he had probably just gotten to chatting with his clients and had let the time escape him, but he also had a strong suspicion that that was far from the case. Rounding a corner while lost in thought, he came face to face with a scene he thought he would never see. 

Rick sat in a single chair, wrists tied behind him and guards at either side or him. He was lightly kicking his heels against the legs of the chair in a bored manner and glaring at the figure in front of him. The figure was talking, but turned to face Morty almost immediately, sensing his presence before anyone else in the room. 

Mortimer stood in front of Morty with a gun in his hand, and as he took in the sight of Morty a smile lit up his face. "Morty! Just in time, I was starting to get worried about you, you know. Thought you might not show up." Mortimer walked over to Morty and slung a comradely arm around his shoulder, not seeming to notice or care about Morty’s shock. "M-Mortimer, what did you do to Rick? What's-what’s going on?" Mortimer led Morty over to his original spot in front of Rick, waving his gun in their grandfather’s direction. "I've set it all up for you Morty, this way it will be much easier for you." Mortimer let go of Morty and started slowly pacing around Rick, who watched Mortimer with hatred and a hint of poorly hidden fear. Morty stood in the spot Mortimer had left him in, nervously grabbing his shirt hem. "You mean to... run away?" Mortimer chuckled, stopping behind Rick for a moment to regard the back of the old man’s head, before continuing his lazy stroll. "Well yes, that too. But there is one teeny, tiny, little thing you need to do before we can leave." Mortimer had made his way back to Morty’s side. Morty felt dread rising in his chest, refusing to look at Mortimer, knowing in his gut what Mortimer was talking about. Instead, he locked eyes with Rick. Where there should have been fear or anger on his face, there was only sadness that stabbed Morty worse than any knife could have. 

"Morty, you need to kill him." 

Morty immediately shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "No, no I can't do that Mortimer. He doesn't deserve-"

"He deserves worse than death, Morty." Mortimer grabbed Morty’s hand, bringing it up to hold close to his chest. "He's hurt you. Betrayed you. He thinks you're nothing, but you are everything, Morty. Kill him Morty, and together we can be great, no limits. Just us." Morty was shaking, torn between the two of them. "I don't know what your Rick was like, Mortimer, but you don't know my Rick." Mortimer abandoned Morty’s hand instantly, viciously grabbing Morty’s face and twisting it towards his own. Morty heard Rick fighting against his restraints, yelling something out to try and stop Mortimer from hurting Morty. "I know exactly what this Rick is like." He spat, tugging Morty’s face close. Fire burned in his eyes. "Rick C-137. 'The Rickest Rick'. My horrible grandfather." Mortimer roughly let go of Morty’s face, turning towards Rick. "He left me to die, Morty. When I needed him most, he left me, and never came back to find me." Realization dawned on Ricks face. "You're...?" Mortimer stepped forward, leering tauntingly in Ricks face. "That's right Rick, it's me. Thought you could get rid of me that easily?" Rick looked panicked, struggling with his restraints. "What? No! That's not what- I didn't-" Mortimer slapped him across the face, and Rick stared at him, dumbfounded. "Any words you have for me are useless now. Any fucks I gave died along with those crew members." 

"You're a psychopath." 

Mortimer’s mouth twisted into a grin for a split second, before he stood up straight and turned back to Morty, who was looking between the two with utter confusion. "He'll abandon you just like he abandoned me, Morty. But if you kill him," Mortimer passionately grabbed Morty’s hands, slipping the gun into them and closing Morty’s fingers around the handle, "Morty, together we could accomplish great things. He wouldn't be in our way anymore. No more manipulation, no more using us like tools, no more limits." Mortimer circled behind Morty, holding his shoulders tenderly with a crazed look across his face. "Shoot him, Morty." 

Morty looked up at Rick. He was still, looking off the side. He looked more tired than Morty had ever seen him look in his life. Morty’s hands trembled, and he was briefly reminded of another time he'd been in a similar situation to this, about to shoot Rick and Rick doing nothing to stop him.

"Do it, Morty." Rick whispered. 

Morty’s mind was scattered. If he lost Rick, he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself. Morty’s hands were trembling, and he stared Rick down, waiting for him to at least look up at him. When he did, Morty regretted it immediately. Morty had hoped that there would be tears, or anger, anything at all. But Ricks face was void of emotion, only expectantly gazing back at Morty. Morty knew he was crying, that if this were a normal situation, then Rick would tell him to suck it up, but this felt far from normal. Morty felt Mortimer’s hands on his shoulders, somehow comforting despite the circumstances. Rick gave Morty a sad, hopeful smile, Morty trying to choke back a rising sob. "Come on Morty, I want you to. Just do it." Slowly raising the gun, Morty tried to take aim at Rick, his hands trembling too much to line it up correctly. He felt Mortimer lean forward in anticipation behind him, his breath coming out in short hot bursts against Morty’s neck. Rick leaned in too, seeming to vibrate with anticipation for what was to come. The air was electric, everyone paused expectantly for Morty to make his move. Morty’s breathe caught in his throat, making his words come out garbled and strained. "I'm sorry." 

 

Morty twirled around, shoving the barrel of the gun into Mortimer’s forehead. Morty glimpsed Mortimer’s look of surprise before pulling the trigger. He saw no sense of betrayal or hurt, only pure shock, his excited blush still fresh on his cheeks. Bits of brains and blood spewed out behind him, splattering onto the floor before his body followed. Morty sobbed, wanting to mourn the loss of his double, but forced himself to turn back to the guards and take them out in quick succession. His trembling having transformed into full-fledged tremors, Morty made his way towards Rick, numbly freeing him. Rick slowly got up and turned towards him, awkwardly rubbing his arm and glancing back at Mortimer’s lifeless body. Morty stood behind the chair, staring at Mortimer and letting the tears flow freely down his face. Mortimer had quickly become an antidote for Morty, feelings of safety and security washing over him every time they had met. Morty knew that if he had chosen Mortimer, though, the closeness would have immediately spiraled into its own kind of abuse. 

It didn't make losing Mortimer or the affection that came with him any easier for Morty. 

Rick let his hands drop to his sides, searching for the right words to say to his grandson. "Morty, I..." he was at a loss and trailed off, staring at Morty worriedly. Morty shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about it right now, Rick." Rick nodded. Morty stiffly went around the chair to Rick and buried his face in Ricks shirtfront, grabbing his coat and fisting it into his hands. Rick hugged him back immediately, patting his back and rubbing circles in it. They both tried to ignore the dead body behind them. 

"Let's go and get some ice cream, yeah buddy?" 

Morty nodded against Ricks shirt, letting out another broken sob and tugging tightly at his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING EVERYBODY I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT IF YOU GUYS WANT AN ALTERNATE ENDING PLEASE LET ME KNOW CUZ I WANNA WRITE ONE BUT ONLY IF I YOU GUYS GIVE FEEDBACK SAYIN YOU WANT IT TOO

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if the chapters seem too long or too short idk how to really spread them out yet ;-; feel free to leave kudos and comments!!
> 
> EDIT: There is now an alternate ending that's the second part of the series this is attached to!!


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